Resurrection of a Monk II
by Salome Sensei
Summary: Sequel. A confused and anguished Miroku seeks return to Sesshomaru's service. Can he convince the arrogant yokai? Adults only, please. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk II

Chapter 1

"Why do you _think_ she's upset with you, Miroku?" Kagome snapped, a flash of fury and concern in her big brown eyes. "You haven't paid attention to her in weeks. And now she's crying. You took her up on the offer to ride alone on Kirara's back together to see that beautiful sunset, and she says you never said a word and didn't even try to grope her! All you do lately is mope. If you're not sick, what the hell is wrong with you, monk?"

Miroku shrugged. He hadn't realized his apathy was so obvious. But then, he could not be bothered to realize it. Shrugging was becoming a habitual gesture since he'd returned to his companions after his time with Sesshomaru. He slept little, could not concentrate, and fought, when he must, with adequate stamina and passable skill but in a dream-state. After, he found himself unable to recall the details as the others rehashed the battle at the campfire or over sumptuous meals he barely ate and when eaten scarcely tasted.

So, now Kagome was piercing his trance-like haze with her determined young voice to invoke guilt in him for doing wrong by Sango. It was not a route that would succeed. He had been doing Sango wrong since he first began their hollow flirtation, he was coming to realize. That combination of female flesh-fondling and panicked attempt to father a child was a grotesque effort to stem the knowledge that his desires ran in an entirely oppositional direction. As was becoming clear to his confused mind and tortured heart, he wanted to surrender himself to the rough caresses of another in a childlike devotion to one who could claim and own him fully. He wanted Sesshomaru.

Under the guise of meditation—and, in truth, it was a sort of blank-mind contemplation—he now often sat alone under the stars and invoked the name of his one true master. Yes, when he had first come back to his friends, he had rejoiced in their generous affection, the warmth that flowed from them at his safe return: the embrace of Kagome, the warm eyes of Sango, the trill of Kirara, the cheer of Shippo, the ridiculous scoff of Inuyasha. His body ached from the harsh use Sesshomaru had given it, and he allowed this pain to drive him toward his comrades, toward the healing of those who treated him as their equal, who cherished his place in their lives, each in their own way.

He threw himself into daily life again, into the quest for the jewel shards, the defeat of Naraku, the pleasures of picnics and conversation and hope for the future. But soon, far sooner than he ever would have imagined, he had fallen into depression and then into a numbness whose only escape was when he was wounded in battle. Suffering the pain of scratches, sprains, and burns in secret satisfaction, Miroku felt alive again.

Second to longed-for injuries was waiting for Inuyasha to declare that he sensed his half-brother nearby. Miroku held no illusions that the daiyokai would come to him or want him back. That he would not suffer his presence a moment seemed likely. He had offered to serve with his life when Lord Sesshomaru had rescued him from death, but like a fool he had become frightened at his subservience once his memory had returned and had twisted this into disgust. What is new to us is so often threatening, he mused. If we would only take the time to know ourselves before we act. At first, Miroku felt shame as he remembered the feel of his lips upon Sesshomaru's slippers, of being taken on his hands and knees, of long-clawed nails digging into his yielding flesh. But now he cherished the memories and craved even more. Though he knew he was no longer the man Sesshomaru had mastered for that brief moment in time, neither was he the confident, lecherous monk of only a moon's cycle ago.

When his sullen silence at last drove Kagome away, with a sound of disgust trailing behind her into the darkness, he returned to his meditation. Let them all fall away, return to their lives of contentment in their quest, of friendship without qualification, of confidence in their abilities, of faith in their place in the world. They belonged to each other, and he no longer belonged to them. Sesshomaru had marked him with more than his sword, his claws, and his cock. He had marked the monk with his indomitable will, and Miroku's remembrance of that will, pouring forth from the height of those molten eyes as he knelt before his perfect master, shone brighter than the heavens on this full-moon night. "Come, Sesshomaru-sama," he mouthed. "Reclaim me and let me live again."


	2. Chapter 2

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk II

Chapter 2

Miroku's silent prayer was answered that very night. However, being fickle like all gods, Sesshomaru's answer was not what the monk had hoped for.

First came the saimyosho, not enough to call a swarm but even one would have been sufficient to alert Inuyasha to their presence. The taint of Naraku was growing stronger daily since his most recent disappearance, and the hanyo had no intention of missing an opportunity to confront his nemesis again. Miroku opened his eyes upon hearing the hum in the air just as Inuyasha came bounding up beside him.

"What the hell are they doing here?" Inuyasha said, scowling up at the saimyosho. Miroku rose and looked to the sky, wondering what might be following in their wake.

"Sesshomaru," Inuyasha snarled.

Miroku's heart leapt to his throat. He could not breathe. He had neither seen nor heard the lord's approach. His mind swam with questions and half-formed thoughts without even glimpsing his master. Had Sesshomaru just arrived or had he been in the shadows, watching? Was he here to reclaim his slave? Need the monk indicate his willingness to return to his service? Could he leave without explaining to Inuyasha and the rest of his companions? Would Sesshomaru punish him for breaking his word or forgive him for so willingly honoring it now?

Stripping further coherent or even semi-coherent thought from his mind, Sesshomaru appeared. Gliding into view with his usual inhuman elegance, the inuyokai faced Inuyasha and addressed him in an icy tone. "I followed them here. It seems Naraku will manifest himself again. In his arrogance, he thinks to summon us with his infernal insects."

"Keh. I'll give him a welcome back he won't forget," Inuyasha boasted.

"You are too easily provoked, Inuyasha, too easily led." The words struck a chord within Miroku. Was this some indirect message meant for him, telling him his service was no longer desired? Advising him to follow his own path? All of his senses were awakened, longing for direction. Instead of turning his gaze or his words to the monk, Sesshomaru suddenly acted. Moving more swiftly than Miroku's eyes could follow, Sesshomaru unsheathed Tokijin and slashed through the handful of saimyosho, which, instantly bisected, dropped hollowly to the ground at their feet.

Inuyasha brought forth Tessaiga and aimed it at his half-brother. "Hey, what the hell are you doing? They woulda led us to Naraku!"

Sesshomaru blinked, displaying only this non-reaction to his half-brother's outburst. Miroku struggled to read those eyes. They seemed so distant. The knowledge that the yokai was a stranger, perhaps always had been, struck him like a blow to the stomach. Their time together seemed more than ever a mirage, an illusion, a nightmare, a dream. Oh, please let him turn that haunting gaze upon his once-and-forever vassal. _Make me real_, burned his silent entreaty in the air between them.

Sesshomaru turned to depart. "Must you always play the fool, Inuyasha?" his fluid voice drifted back over his shoulder. "I will not be led by feeble insects to Naraku's side. I will confront the foul hanyo when I wish, in the manner I wish. If you seek to be his obedient pup, fear not: I am certain he will soon find equally absurd means to summon you again."

"Sesshomaru!" yelled Inuyasha, rushing forward, sword outstretched.

Sesshomaru whirled, his movements all but a blur in their speed and fluid grace. Tessaiga and Tokijin clashed and sparked in the air. Inuyasha was wild rage personified; Sesshomaru countered with disdainful poise. Once, twice, thrice: they met in mid-air—magnificent weapons arcing and crashing, silver hair flying, eyes shining, fangs gleaming in the darkness.

Miroku watched Sesshomaru hold Inuyasha at bay. The latter seemed to have no idea that the demon lord was barely fighting, had no intention of destroying him or he would already be dead at his feet. Envy smoldered in his soul; what he would not give to attain one fraction of the attention Sesshomaru lavished upon his half-brother. Not even hanyo but merely and futilely human, the monk could not hope for so rich a response as loathing nor even calculated disdain. He suddenly felt a hatred for Inuyasha he had never known before. He did not deserve the touch of Sesshomaru's sword against his own, did not merit the precious honor of his gaze. Miroku's blood raged with futile, fiery emotions and an overwhelming need to earn Sesshomaru's forgiveness at any cost.

A final push and Sesshomaru had Inuyasha on the ground beneath Tokijin's slender blade. "You will not make me take your life, brother, no matter how poorly you fight. Not this night or any other on which I have not decided to kill you." The inuyokai withdrew his sword and sheathed it. And then he turned and was gone, vanishing into the woods before Miroku could beg him to stay.

"Keh. Idiot. As if he could kill me," boasted Inuyasha to Miroku as he rose from his ignoble position in the dirt.

Miroku looked at Inuyasha and felt as if he were seeing him for the first time. He had always found him a braggart and a child, but he had also felt indulgence, even enjoyment of his rashness and determination. What he saw now was merely a loathsome example of puerile waste. He watched Sesshomaru disappear and felt his world ending.

Author's Note: Chapters 3 and 4 coming **very** soon, with something new in writing style…and some fresh lemon.


	3. Chapter 3

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk II

Author's Note: This chapter was co-written by me and the magnificent pseudohanyou, who became Miroku to my Sesshomaru as we composed together. I am honored that she shared her talent and touched me so deeply with her desperate, pleading Miroku. That Sesshomaru was willing to offer so many "worthless words" to the monk attests to his determined allure in her capable hands. The editing and framing is mine and I take responsibility for its flaws. Most of all, I hope the experiment pleases.

**Dedication: This is, of course, for you, gakusei.**

Chapter 3

_Don't go...Gods, don't go_, Miroku thought. How he had come to this desperate state he neither knew nor cared. His thoughts raced faster than his hurried heartbeat. _Why are you toying with me in this way? Why didn't you look at me? You know I'm here…you know I'm dying. I want to run after you, but they'll see. They'll see that I am yours…and…I don't care. _The monk rose, turning away from Inuyasha as he retrieved and resheathed Tessaiga, and then he ran. He would follow and find Lord Sesshomaru—and never look back.

Miroku was stunned when only a dozen running strides brought him within sight of his magnificent lord. _You pretend that you don't see me. Liar. _His thoughts emboldened him."Wait! Come back! Take me with you…please. I can't stay with them. Do you hear me? I cannot stay here! Stop walking!"And then the miracle occurred. Sesshomaru paused.

_There it is: that tiny halt in your step_, Miroku remarked with a fragile smile._ The same one you gave me when I called out to you that first time. Are you truly going to stop for me?_ His chest felt tight and his eyes burned. Sesshomaru knew it, smelled it.The monk felt certain of that._ Stop for me, my god, my master_, he silently pleaded._ What is this? Am I supposed to say something? Will you listen if I do? Gods, my heart is racing_..."I...I don't know what to say to you. Take me with you. I have said that already, but it is the only thought that rushes through me again and again. You're leaving. Don't go.Take me with you."

Sesshomaru turned.  
_  
_Miroku held his breath. _Your eyes; I can finally see your eyes. _And suddenly, he could not help but pour forth words, more words, anything to keep those eyes upon him: "Please. All else is nothing to me. Keep me, keep me as you do the girl and the toad. I know begging won't do, I know this Sesshomaru-sama. But you're leaving and I...I cannot let you go. Not again. Forgive me for my decision to return to them. I didn't realize. I didn't know how you…how we…would haunt me."

Sesshomaru was stillness made flesh. He stood before the monk, unmoving and unresponsive, glaring down at the ranting human before him. He tasted his fear, desperation, and desire in the air between them.

"Yes," Miroku begged, "look at me the way you did before you fucked me. That glint I saw before I felt your claw probing me, before I felt your cock inside of me. Before I knew what it was to be owned by a demon." He panted with need. His voice rasped, his nails bit into his fisted palms. "You see that I am yours. You know that I would betray even them. Take me with you. I have no other words."

Sesshomaru narrowed his golden eyes and the monk finally fell silent. The darkness surrounded them and the silence stretched before them. After long moments, the daiyokai spoke. "What could make you think that such words would sway me, monk? One or a thousand: worthless air from a worthless human."

Miroku staggered. He fought back the unfamiliar sting of tears seeking to form in his haunted eyes. "You were leaving…I couldn't let you leave. What was I to do? What, other than words, would have halted you?"

"That is your question, fool," Sesshomaru scoffed. "You have proven your weakness. What have you to offer me in the face of that?"

"My devotion, Sesshomaru-sama. I will not be weak in serving you." And the realization became as clear as the power in Sesshomaru's gaze: "It is only when I am not near you that I feel this desperation."

"I seem to collect the worthless like burrs on a monk's robes," Sesshomaru mused. He paused, blinked slowly, then spoke again. He extended a languid hand, pointing a poisoned-tipped claw at the monk. "Kill Inuyasha for me. Prove yourself worthy."

Miroku responded without pause. "Yes, Sesshomaru-sama. If this is what you ask of me, this is what I will do. If I can worship you in this way, I shall. Only promise that you will keep me if I do…"

"You answer so swiftly." Sesshomaru fought to restrain the trace of emotion in his voice. The presumptuous monk had too much affect on him. Now more than ever. Damn him. Damn Tenseiga. Damn his father. He took a deep, slow breath and regained control. "More words, monk. I see in your eyes the truth, that you will say anything."

"Yes, Sesshomaru-sama," Miroku quickly agreed. "Anything. Anything that will sway you to keep me…. But I shall honor my words. Air to you they may be, but they express my devotion."

Sesshomaru took in the sight and scent of Miroku's increasing arousal. He saw need. And recognition of power in those wide eyes. Devotion. Human devotion. If he could be moved by it, he was unworthy of it.

"I need you, my Lord. I need you to not abandon me."

"Abandon?" Sesshomaru said, cool disdain once again ringing sonorously in his words. "I offered you my protection. I honored you every time I touched your worthless body."

"Yes, Sesshomaru-sama. And I ran. I ran because I am a fool. And I beg your forgiveness now. I will do this thing. I will do this thing for you. Keep me. Let me adore you."

Curiosity was now at play for the inuyokai. The pleasure of control over little lives. "And Inuyasha?" he asked evenly. "Do you not value his life?"

The calmer Sesshomaru's voice became, the more passionate grew the monk's. "Perhaps once, yes. I did. But that is of no consequence now. If you will not have me, he will not save me from the torment. No one can save me but you. And so I say, no, I do not value his life."

"Well spoken, monk," Sesshomaru granted, permitting himself to reward the human with praise, for if he was to consider keeping him, he would need to be taught much. "Perhaps you are not a fool in all things." Then, he pressed him deeper. "And the slayer?"

"Sango?"

"Not of value either?"

"She is no threat to you, my Lord."

Sesshomaru revealed fangs. "No one is a threat to me, monk."

"Yes, Sesshomaru-sama," Miroku replied, blushing hotly. He knew he was a fool to say such things. He felt inside himself and knew that finding peace depended upon fulfilling his master's needs. Only purging his stubborn thoughts and selfish whims like a sacrificial offering would bring him what he longed for, but he needed help to shed the last vestiges of willfulness and pride. Without wishing to speak again, he found himself doing so: "What consequence does her life hold in accordance with yours? She will not follow you."

Sesshomaru sensed the tension, understood the battle was not between himself and the monk but within the monk's own frail human soul. There was no threat here, only a spectacle he would observe until it no longer interested him. "Monk: I would not have her. Yet, neither is Inuyasha a threat, merely an irritation. Yet you would strike him down for me. If you are able."

"I will."

"He is weak, monk, but he can destroy you."

Miroku winced. Did Sesshomaru think so little of his skills? He looked up at the tall, elegant figure of strength before him. Why should he feel anything but disgust? The monk knew he would have to change this, show himself worthy of this deed at least. Holding his head high, he spoke with the bravery of a man determined to earn the prize he sought. "I am able, my Lord. I am able because your bidding guides me. And I know of a time when he cannot."

"Ah, so you will not face Inuyasha when he is strong but when he is vulnerable. Pathetic monk, why would I want so feeble a follower as you?"

Miroku was silent a moment, stunned by Lord Sesshomaru's continued resistance and scorn. Was there no reaching him? Yet, wait. He forced himself to know that his god could depart at any moment he wished, or end Miroku's life without a second thought. And he did not.

Sesshomaru smelled the monk's impetuous courage and furthered his advance. "And if I bid you to destroy them all? The nekomata, the kitsune, the miko, the slayer: all?"

"I would obey," he pronounced. Still, he was weak, and his words could not help but reflect it. "But why would you ask such a thing of me? Is my promise to carry out your initial request not proof enough? I only want you to take me with you. I don't want to see them again…"

Did the pathetic creature dare to question his judgment? Sesshomaru growled in his throat before he could stop himself. What was this affect the monk had on him? Would it torment him always? Pushing pointless self-inquiry from his mind, the yokai lashed out and took Miroku by the throat.

Miroku gasped, whimpered. "This...this is all I could ever ask of you, Sesshomaru-sama."

Sesshomaru sensed no fear as he gripped his prey. The moment was ripe, satisfying, good. "If I choose to end your life now, monk? Is that what you truly seek? A way out of your pitiful existence? Discontented with what you had, unable to attain what you desire?" His eyes bore into Miroku's as his claws began to dig into his flesh.

"No, Sesshomaru-sama," he replied, despite the pressure at his throat. "I seek your forgiveness." He burned with a shame that enhanced his desire and banished fear, come what may. He had never felt more alive. "I seek the feel of you. I cannot have that unless I am alive. No, I do not seek death. My existence is pitiful...only when it does not include you as my master."

Sesshomaru loosened but did not release his grip. He moved in to his quarry. He could smell the monk's sweet, mortal breath. "Forgiveness? Forgiveness implies that I care about your life enough to feel anger—which I do not. Or regret—which I do not. You flatter, monk, with that lecherous, untrustworthy tongue."

"I could please you as well with this tongue, if that is your wish."

Sesshomaru refused the smile that sought to form on his face. "I know what your body offers, monk. And that it offered any diversion at all is more honor than your life deserves."

_Oh yes_, thought Miroku._ I understand this. I am not worthy of the air between us. Yet you desire me, Sesshomaru-sama. You do._ He let his eyelids slowly drift down, and bent his head in an exquisite sign of true submission.

Sesshomaru felt his body stir. The thought of Inuyasha killed by his former trusted ally, the knowledge that the monk truly, wholly was offering himself, and the awareness that he actually wanted that offering blended together and simmered within him. "Let me see you at my feet again, monk." The monk obeyed, instantly. And Sesshomaru could not but recall how very right he looked there.

"It is where I belong," Miroku murmured in tacit agreement with Sesshomaru's thought.

Sesshomaru reach out a slippered foot to press him down. "If you belong anywhere, worthless monk, it is with your face to the earth before me."

"If that will please you, my Lord..."

"You do not have it in you to truly please me. And, hear me well, monk: pleasure is not what life is for. Life is about power. Attaining it and retaining it."

"Your power is over me."

"Yes. And you are worthy to me only as you enhance my power." He enjoyed the feel of his foot, resting on the monk's back. "Humans are simple to awe, monk. It is why your submission has not power enough to move me."

"Let me touch you and I shall move you in a way words cannot accomplish."

So boastful, this monk was. "Fool," replied Sesshomaru, even as he felt his arousal swell. "Show me."


	4. Chapter 4

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Resurrection of a Monk II

Author's Note: Lemon for all my friends! (This chapter also is the product of co-writing with pseudohanyou as my Miroku. I only hope the product is half as hot as the process was.)

Chapter 4

Miroku rose and dared risk eye contact to see whether his own desire would be reflected back in those godlike orbs. He was afraid to touch without being commanded to do so. Instead, he removed his robes and knelt again. "Do what you will with me, bid what you wish. My master, my Sesshomaru-sama. Adore me in this way, and I will end them all. You have done this to me."

"Inuyasha is only a few paces behind, monk. Would you have him see you used as you know I will use you?"

"Is he so close? I can only know you in this perfect moment." Miroku longed to feel Sesshomaru's merciless touch. But he gathered his wits, knowing his service to his master was only as valuable as his word. "But no, I should not be seen like this. He will know I have given myself to you and I will lose my chance to end him for you."

Sesshomaru relished the monk's predicament, perhaps more than he should, and it inspired and stiffened his resolve. "That is not my concern. You followed me as I left you. I turned and have spent more worthless words on you than any other being in my long existence. Now take me in your mouth and prove yourself worthy of even one more word, one more moment of my time…"

_I__ am afraid to reach my hands up to free you_, Miroku thought. _Afraid that it will somehow insult you. But if I do not...I will not have the pleasure of tasting you and you will leave me here, broken._ And so he did, reaching inside of Sesshomaru's thick white robes—so cool, so soft—and finding his prize. Miroku's mouth could but seek the thing which had tamed him into being this devoted mess, his lips could but wrap around it. The all too familiar flavor flooded his senses and he suppressed a moan in fear that it would displease his Lord. It was terrible, not knowing what would please and what would anger, but the need drove him on.

He knew that Sesshomaru would not be one to show response, and so he drew on the hard length in hopes that he could get something, perhaps the sound of his Lord's breath catching in his throat. Silence; it was all his Lord offered. Yet he allowed Miroku to do this and that was enough to convince him that he had succeeded, he had done something which had pleased him, else he would have died moments ago.

Sesshomaru was inhumanly still as he received Miroku's devotion. There was nothing in his eyes, no sound from his lips, but his soul was leaking from him at the sweetness of the monk's hesitation, the depth of his offering. His thoughts flew on wings of their own, beyond his control or desire to control them: _Feed on my strength, monk. Make yourself worthy so I may admit my need for your offering without words, without a trace of weakness. That I am hard in your mouth is all I will ever show you. And it is already too much._

To know that his Lord wanted this moved Miroku deeply; to feel the hardness pushing at the back of his throat was proof. Proof that he could be worthy.

Sesshomaru reached a hand down to thread through the monk's hair and urge him on. To some, this service was degradation. But not to his monk. He felt in the urgent rhythm of a devotion that he had neither felt nor craved so deeply before. Nor would ever again with another, he was certain.

As the familiar cold heat of a demon's touch adorned Miroku's head, he knew he was to quicken his pace. This was what Miroku longed for. And he loved this, loved that his mouth alone could seal his fate. Yes: his mouth and his actions.

The acknowledgment of his desire became too tempting for Sesshomaru, the pleasure he was allowing himself to feel was too overwhelming. It did not become his stature, however superficial was the monk's awareness of it. He shifted his thoughts to Inuyasha, wondering why he no longer smelled him near. Had he already witnessed and fled from this scene?

Miroku felt his Lord's head raise and knew that his attention was somewhere other than on him. And so he allowed his tongue to swipe the base of his Lord's cock as his mouth engulfed him. If he could only taste that wonderful gift…. If he could provoke a release, he knew he would have proven himself enough to be allowed to continue in this service until the demon tired of him. That would be enough. It would be everything.

Sesshomaru felt the soft tongue swipe at the underside of his cock and longed to surrender to it. Could he allow himself to trust this monk? To give in to the softness of his lips, the warmth of his mouth? To thrust deep and allow himself to again experience that gratification he had given into so recently and so fully? Nothing in his life had matched the absolute surrender of the monk that night when he had offered himself up so fully, so beautifully. That young, slender, mortal body. Now kneeling before him, just as it should be. Unafraid to be discovered.

The monk wanted to smile, wanted to cry out his victory, but he settled for the motion of his Lord's hips as he forced himself against the back of his throat again and again. Now he was even more determined, more focused on him. Yes, focused. Miroku could feel the demon's eyes on him as though he were being burned and he knew that he only had to pull on his cock a little harder….

Sesshomaru grew wild with the contradictions inside him as he guided the monk to feed and draw the desire from his body. How was it that he could be so aroused, so unconcerned with anything but the power flowing through him as the monk touched him this way? Did anyone know his greatness and might as this monk did? Did anyone else revere him as he deserved? And did he need anyone else when he had this, just this, this moment; his enter being centered on the ache in his cock, an ache that only this monk could release.

Miroku knew, he knew from his own escapades that, though silent, his Lord was fighting to keep a growl from forming in his throat, fighting to keep from pumping his cock into his mouth and obtaining release. It was a mystery to Miroku whether or not he could force this from such a powerful creature. But he needed this, needed to taste the proof that his Lord indeed found him worthy, desirable. He needed to feel it burn his tongue and flow down his throat.

Sesshomaru grabbed the monk hard by the hair and pulled him up. He could feel the desire in the monk for more than he merited and it gave him control over himself once again. Yes, the monk needed Sesshomaru's release and Sesshomaru did not permit such weakness in himself. He did not give gifts. Releasing the monk from his grip, looking down into his soul through his wide brown eyes, he watched the human's lips part and he reached down to pump forth his offering, watching it splash onto his face, into his mouth, over his chin. And before he could stop the words from spilling forth as well, he had uttered "my slave" as his body convulsed.

_Yes...this_, thought Miroku. This reward. This confirmation that he belonged to his demon god. He allowed his tongue to swipe over his lips, tasting the victory of being owned by one of such power.


	5. Chapter 5: Etude

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Author's Note: Not really a chapter, just a little treat to let you know what Sesshomaru is thinking while the monk has him in his mouth in Chapter 4. …but shhhhhh: the big, bad inuyokai doesn't know I read his thoughts and share them…

Chapter 5: Etude

for my gakusei, with love

The way the monk takes my cock. The sheer wanton sincerity of it. The repulsive, irresistible beauty of that mortal mouth. The raw need that flows from him until he threatens to take me under, too. I will not go gently.

Monk: You are healing me in places I did not know I ached—did not even know I owned. Your sucking brings me to life. I will never tell you of this. Draw it out, monk, yes, just like that. Feel me harden and swell for you. My erect cock is my only confession.

There, monk, right there. Yes. Suck me. Suckle me. I shall offer you sustenance. Feed at the source of my omnipotence. Be reborn as I am reborn into the fullness of my power through you.

How can his touch be so full of mortal decay yet so lifegiving. Your taint thrills me, monk, sharpens my senses and hones my desire to a lethal edge.

No one has ever wanted so much from me, taken so much from me, even in the giving of such…exquisite…pleasure…

I am shattering, monk, coming apart in your mouth. I must withdraw to keep you from seeing too much, too deeply. I withdraw so I may anoint you, make you once again my eager slave, my coveted disciple.


End file.
